


Priceless Broken Things

by Sulwen



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-27
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sulwen/pseuds/Sulwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just supposed to be pizza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Priceless Broken Things

**Author's Note:**

> Unrepentant angst. Don't say I didn't warn you.

It was just supposed to be pizza.

Reconnect, Adam said. Hang out. Browse Google for tattoo designs. Casual whatever shit, like they used to do all the time. Before.

Tommy doesn't know how he ended up straddling Adam's lap, licking the thin shine of pepperoni grease off Adam's lips. Everything leading up to that moment is a blur. But it's cruel, _cruel_ how crystal-clear the next few seconds are, even now, shining in his head like a wrongly set gem.

He closes his eyes and relives it for the thousandth time – Adam's lips, warm and familiar, his big hands resting on Tommy's hips, the scent of him, the _aura_ of him overwhelming in the very best way.

It's his own fault. He's sure of it. Adam is an expert at providing the illusion of wild abandon, but in reality, Tommy thinks he's never known anyone with so much control over their own body. Adam wouldn't have pushed, would have stayed in bounds. Colored inside the lines.

But Tommy, he runs on instinct, and his instinct in that moment is to _thrust,_ the motion embedded deep in his DNA, age-old search for _heat_ and _pressure_ and _more._

Gasping pleasure shoots through him for one glorious second, spiking outward from where his cock is suddenly flush against Adam's, two layers of clothes notwithstanding, and Adam opens his mouth on a low moan, more musical than such a sound has any right to be, and everything seems like possibilities...

And then Tommy's shoving away, _hard,_ practically tripping over himself in his hurry to put as much space between the two of them (between their _dicks,_ for fuck's sake) as he possibly can. He turns his face away, forces his shellshocked eyes closed, but he's not quick enough. The disappointment, the rejection, the _pain_ on Adam's face burns itself into his retinas, and Tommy has an unpleasant twisting feeling that he'll never be rid of that look. Not ever.

He speaks because he has to, because he can't bear the silence any longer. “I'm sorry, A--”

He doesn't even have a chance to finish the sentence before Adam's perfect control is snapping, torn away like cheap wrapping paper, leaving nothing but fire in its stead.

“You're sorry, right. I _know_ you're fucking sorry, Tommy. Good for you. But you know what? I don't _care_ about sorry any more.”

Adam pushes himself up, forces himself right into Tommy's face and stares down into his eyes, and for the first time in a long, long time, Tommy feels very small next to him.

“Straight. Fine. I can do that. But this? Call it whatever you want, Tommy, but I can't do this. Not anymore. I can't...”

Tommy can feel his face going stony, his eyes shuttered, and for once he's grateful for it. Better by far than showing Adam what he's really feeling, how deep the words cut.

“You kissed _me,_ asshole,” he says.

“Well you fucking kissed back!” Adam's eyes flare dangerously, and Tommy has the sudden mad urge to run, rabbit away into his bedroom and lock the door. Maybe shove his dresser in front of it too, for good measure.

He holds his ground. “You have a boyfriend, remember?” he asks dully.

Adam goes very still, and his voice goes very soft. He enunciates each word slowly, carefully, as if to a child. Or an idiot.

“You didn't want me.”

The silence that follows is so tense Tommy can feel his stomach beginning to react, an unhappy acidic churning. He wants to deny it, _wishes_ he could. But Adam has always been good at sensing a lie, even Tommy's best ones, and it doesn't matter anyway – Adam cuts him off again before he even draws breath. His voice has softened now, taken on a note of pleading, but it's no less hurtful. Not even a little bit.

“Tommy...why can't you just let me _be?_ I'm just trying to move on...”

Tommy wraps his arms around himself and glares. “Oh you are? Really? Funny way of showing it, sticking your tongue down my throat every time we're alone.”

Silence again, less tense but _heavier_ somehow, and suddenly Tommy is terrified, scared out of his mind. He can see the resignation in Adam's eyes, and it looks like...it looks like the end.

“You're right. Of course you're right.” Adam's voice is rough, grating into him and cutting bits away a piece at a time. He sighs. “So...I guess that's it then.”

“What?”

“It's _over,_ Tommy. We can't keep doing...whatever the fuck this is. It's killing me by degrees. I want...I want you, _all_ of you. But since I can't have that...I can't handle the taste of you, even a little one. This has to end. All of it.”

Tommy's gritting his teeth so hard he thinks they might break, and his nails dig into his palms, points of pain that keep the world from disappearing in a haze of red.

“I guess you should leave, then,” he says, voice an emotionless monotone.

“Yeah. Guess I should.” Adam turns to go. Stops. Then he looks back at Tommy over his shoulder, eyes downturned, liquid, and there's something in them Tommy can't quite read. “Just...why did you have to be so...”

He trails off, shaking his head, as if the words he needs won't come. Maybe there aren't words for this. Tommy can't think of a single one that sounds right.

Tommy isn't sure, later, if Adam meant to slam the door behind him, or if an errant gust of wind simply tugged it out of his control. It hardly matters. The sound is gunshot-sharp and shockingly _final._

Tommy falls back down onto the sofa and stares at the half-eaten pizza, watches the cheese slowly congeal into chewy cardboard. He can't feel anything, but that's all right. He's in no hurry to find out what's lurking there, behind the numbness, something reeking of regret and loss and priceless broken things.


End file.
